First Foolishness and Curiousity
by EleanorKate
Summary: A first date for Chummy... NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

It was one of those curiosities, oddities, quirks or whichever description you might fancy to give it.

One of those somethings that ought to have passed her by long ago; left, perhaps at best cherished or probably dismissed from your memory as you saw fit to recall it. It was one of those rites of passage that she had witnessed siblings, colleagues and those occasional friends seemingly sail through but never been able to enjoy for her, or, for that matter, recoil in embarrassment over as you grew old.

With those first memories of hesitant steps towards company and first kisses, well, those chances had truly melted into the not forgotten past, lost into the drifting mists of misplaced moments, with those faces that seemed to fuse into one muddied, bewildering existence. That was all it was, certainly. An existence. A life unfulfilled and unrewarding except when that uniform sat nestled on her shoulders and hips. That was, until very possibly this second if the good Lord decided that he would shine on her this one time.

Replacing her glasses, Chummy gently twisted one of the vigilantly dressed curls that lay at the nape of her neck, carefully placed by Cynthia after the owner's attempts left her with shaking hands and a deepening feeling of foreboding at that blasted twirl of hair that simply refused to behave and do what it was told. The eeriest sensation suddenly danced across her shoulders and she was not entirely sure whether it was anxiety or excitement. Getting all dolled up for a date. A date. Her. A date with someone. Him. This person who had voluntary chosen to want to spend time with her. In truth the devilsome little chap that sat on her shoulder was trying to persuade her that it had to be some jolly jape. Anyone else but he and it might just have been one of those hoots or capers that everybody but poor old Chummy seemed to understand the reason for or the method behind.

To her side there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Pip pip! One's always at home!" she announced, knowing that it would have sounded to whoever that person was as far too enthusiastic. Turning towards the opening door, she saw Sister Bernadette slip into the room.

"Just a quick cup of tea" she said, eyes gently washing over the navy blue dress that the Nurse was wearing. "It's quite frosty out there tonight".

Chummy smiled in thanks and turned back to the mirror.

"You do look lovely Chummy!" Sister Bernadette commented as she placed the cup gently on the dresser.

"Do I?" she asked curiously adjusting the neckline of the dress she had deliberated over for more hours than in all likelihood was healthy.

"You do", the Sister replied about to turn tail and leave the nurse in peace.

"Sister?" Chummy asked, turning too away from the small mirror, needing an opinion that she knew would be balanced and thought out and not with an underlying feeling that she was being teased. "Are you sure I do?"

"Do you think?" she continued, waving her hand in the general region of her chest. In an effort to feel remotely personable for male company, not quite knowing one way or another, she had taken this dress from the wardrobe and spent hours surveying it and wondering, putting it back, ironing it, thinking she ought to let the hem down, the neckline up and verging on cancelling the whole frightening mess.

"Nurse, I really don't think I am quite the person to be asking whether a dress is rather too low cut or not" the Sister replied, slightly stumbling over her words.

Chummy smiled. "Sorry Sister" she replied quickly, suddenly staring at the floor in horror that she had suggested such a personal thing of a Nun. "Only the girls just pull my leg and tell me to make sure its lower!"

"You look lovely Nurse" the Sister concluded. "Perhaps though a cardigan if you feel uncomfortable? You do have that ever so lovely black one with the lace around the neck?"

It didn't strike her immediately that the Sister had even noticed that garment that barely ever saw the light of day. She didn't like, normally, to wear it; a present from one of her sisters in law and it felt too sumptuous to even justify it sitting on her shoulders. Thinking back she had worn it once – Trixie's birthday – when they had been to the cinema and sat eating biscuits until midnight in the sitting room and she had been sure that there had not been a Sister in sight.

"Thank you Sister", Chummy replied, resisting placing a hand on the Sisters arm in thanks as it still felt all too familiar. "That is a first-rate idea".

"It's quite alright" she heard in response before downstairs they heard the door bell ring. Chummy swiftly raised her wrist to look at her watch.

"I do believe that might be your gentleman", the Sister continued, smiling feeling the slight edginess in the room suddenly ratchet up a few more degrees.

"It can't be!" Chummy replied, panicking as fear suddenly began to swim through her nervous veins, brushing her dress down again, although entirely unnecessarily. "It's far, far too early! It can't be him".

"Nurse" Sister Bernadette said, voice calm in a counterpoint to the raised, rushed words she was hearing and the fluster around her. "If he is early I can send him away for you…."

"No, no, no, gosh no!" Chummy replied, suddenly tormenting the thin belt of her dress, thinking that doing just that might give all kinds of the wrong type of impression. "What would be thinking of me to send him packing?"

All of a sudden there was another knock on the door and Trixie's head popped around.

"Oh! It was him wasn't it?" Chummy replied, face creasing resisting the need to sit down with an ungracious thump and just give up on the entire thing.

"Don't sound so horrified!" Trixie responded, disguising a chuckle in her voice as she too rounded the door. "I've left him in the sitting room".

They both saw the frown on Chummy's face.

"I would rather suggest you drink your tea and let him wait", Sister Bernadette stated somewhat emphatically before she walked from the room.

"Did I just hear that?" Trixie whispered, waiting until the footsteps were sufficiently far away down the corridor.

"Advice about how to deal with a chap from a Nun?" Chummy replied, deciding finally that she would wear that cardigan after all. "One thinks you did!"

"Now let me look at you!" Trixie said, turning her friend around and holding her by the arms, surveying her.

"Yes" she continued, gently buffing some of the token blusher that had been applied with her thumb. "Perfect!"

Chummy smiled, still not being able to keep that slight hint of resignation from her face. It was going to be a disaster. It was the only way that it could possibly go. The first man she could like, at least on first value, so it made it all together more exasperating that this date was going to end in the archetypal, debasing botch of not being able to string a coherent sentence together in mixed company.

"So did you decide where you are going?" Trixie asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"To see Carousel" Chummy replied, turning to take her cardigan from the dresser behind them both.

"Oh!" Trixie replied. "I have been waiting an age to see that! You must remember every detail and tell me immediately".

"I will", Chummy responded, shaking the garment, seeing no creases as she gently turned down the collar.

"Unless you are up to things that good girls shouldn't in the back row but I do expect details of that too!" Trixie continued, eyes following in devilment as Chummy completed her ensemble.

"Trixie! Ssshhh!" she scolded, partly embarrassed that someone would even think she would be up to such things but in equal measure wondering why he'd even want to think about such practices with her of all people anyway. It had still not entirely registered, and perhaps would not for a time, that he might want to listen to what she might have to say. The thought that he might be physically attracted to her was too much of an exasperating folly to even give thought to.

"It was a joke!" Trixie replied, resisting saying 'almost'. "Just have lovely time and stop worrying". She deliberately emphasised the last two words as she saw her friend give herself a one last look in the mirror.

"Come on", Trixie said, handing her the patent leather black bag she had borrowed from Jenny that sat propped against the bedstead. "You have a date to go on!"


	2. Chapter 2

It was as though the floorboards were viscous. Feet laden with imaginary glue, treacle and sticky tape that adhered to the soles of her shoes, Chummy stepped along the top corridor, almost not hearing Trixie's voice behind her as she walked.

Her mind, however, was trotting along uncontrolled miles ahead of her, already picturing the vaguely familiar worn red velvet seats of the picture house and that musty smell of cigarette smoke, wood polish and damp that seemed to be wherever you turned. As usual, spinning thoughts taunted her as it dawned on her that this was an actual _date _and if she cancelled right now, she might just be the most horrific person alive.

The word 'date' had been tossed around by her friends, teasing her and goading her into awkward laughter and those girlish giggles that had never before passed her lips and it seem even now, would not. It all seemed frivolous as half an hour in her company and she could see his mind wandering already onto subjects far more engaging than her.

Chummy could only fail to stop her imagination wandering to places inappropriate as each step bought her closer to her fate. It did feel like that. A fate. She should be bouncing for joy that she was being taken for an evening out; yet it just seemed, now reality had dawned, so..so..ghastly and terrifying. Perhaps, she had thought and then dismissed it immediately, that she liked his company and knew that there was no point getting her hopes up before they were terribly dashed by her own foolishness.

There were too many things to think about that suffocated that tiny spark of the fact that he had asked her out and she had said yes; unconsciously and without hesitation. Too many questions, too many worries about what could go wrong, coursing, multiplying as her mind worked over and over itself.

What if his hand went to her arm or her back to gently guide her innocently through a doorway? How would she, or perhaps should she, react? What if he took her hand even if in the darkness where he could not see the terror cascade over her face? First instinct might have been to gently, quietly and firmly clasp her hands to her lap and hope he just might not. Yes that was better, think that he won't as it's pointless worrying about that anyway.

Keep your paws firmly out of the way old girl. Then you don't have to distress yourself that he might start to chip away at those barriers that had been so efficient in shutting out those curiosities before for fear of that wretched humiliation and rejection. Again.

How she wished that she had a Mother in whom she could confide; seek advice or simply ventilate her feelings. She was so unworldly.

Chummy almost scoffed out loud at the absurdity of the thought. A mother who she could confide in? Such a concept if ever there was one. She found herself halfway downstairs and hearing a calm voice. Trixie had stopped her soothing words and they were replaced by…what was that? Keats?

_ 'Stop and consider! life is but a day; _

_A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way_

_ From a tree's summit; a poor Indian's sleep _

_While his boat hastens to the monstrous steep Of Montmorenci. _

_Why so sad a moan?'_

"Sister?" Chummy asked as she found the bottom step and Sister Monica Joan firmly seated and blocking their path.

_'Life is the rose's hope while yet unblown; _

_The reading of an ever-changing tale; _

_The light uplifting of a maiden's veil…'_

"Sister?" she repeated, not wanting to interrupt but having to. The Sister stood and turned, taking the Nurse's hands between hers, craggy fingers winding with the smoother younger skin and Chummy could barely rip her eyes from the contrast. Gently she saw the elderly hand smooth across hers, comforting in that odd manner when you barely said a word yet somebody was watching your soul.

"I have left your suitor in the sitting room with…." the Sister started, suddenly lowering her voice to barely a whisper, "a healthy slice of Genoa, but I fear it does not find favour". The Sister shook her head and walked quietly away as Chummy turned to Trixie who was standing directly behind her. The pair shared a metaphorical shrug of the shoulders.

"Go on" Trixie whispered, consciously and deliberately pushing Chummy in the back down the last step. By the time Chummy turned around to say something – anything – her companion had disappeared from sight, moving away silently like a ghost and suddenly she was alone. Well, alone, unless you took into account the gentleman barely ten steps away on the other side of the sitting room wall ruminating over cake.

She exhaled quickly, summoning courage, and for a second or two closed her eyes. 'That tea was a bloomer' she thought to herself, anxiety telling her to run swiftly to the nearest bathroom even though she knew full well that the half cup she had managed to consume would not have passed quite that quickly. A thought flashed for a second that she might just make it to the bathroom sight unseen if she crept in the opposite direction; if only to just check to the cardigan covered what needed to be covered and to persuade her insides that there was really no need to be so blasted enthusiastic.

All of a sudden though she felt as though she was being watched and wondered if perhaps Trixie or Sister Monica Joan had returned. That was until whoever it was politely cleared their throat and it was certainly not female. Fred?

She opened to her eyes to find Peter standing in the door way of the sitting room. "Sorry", he muttered, unable to keep eye contact with her. He'd heard footsteps and talking and his first instinct was to leave that slice of Genoa behind as it stared at him, taunting his churning stomach.

"I just heard your voice and thought you might be ready…..I was early". He saw a quick smile.

"It's being in the Police" he explained, although entirely unnecessarily. "You get disciplined if you are late on shift and so I'm always early wherever I go".

He was actually stuttering his way through the sentence, trying to fill the gap swishing and swaying in the four feet between them and she didn't know what to make of him standing there as though he was facing military inspection. It didn't strike her that he might just be nervous too. Why on earth would he be nervous about me? Catching herself, she stopped what would have been a quip that would have set them firmly off on the wrong foot.

"That's quite alright", she replied, hands clasped firmly on the borrowed handbag, a shield over her stomach. "Better early than never as Pa used to say". Whatever flashed in his eyes was a mystery to her.

"So are you ready?" he asked seeing nod in response as he gestured for her to walk in front of him, the very second she did the same.

What followed might just mirror their attempts, perhaps one day, at taking to the dance floor and they stepped and stuttered before she felt his hand hover near her elbow. Not touching, just floating in mid air as she moved quickly ahead of him to collect her coat.

Neither said a word until they were at the bottom of the steps of Nonnatus, both now entirely sure that the three faces that they had both seen peeking from one of the upstairs windows had disappeared.

"Still Carousel?" he asked as the stepped into the early evening, keeping what felt like a respectful distance between them.

"As long as you..." she started, wondering if that was signal that he had changed his mind from the discussion they had a few days ago. "If you still want to that is". She just about managed to articulate the words, dreading he was losing interest already.

"I don't mind either way Camilla".

Something hit her square in the chest. Nobody called her Camilla, except, well, _her_. Brothers, friends, colleagues, acquaintances it was always Miss Browne, Nurse Browne or Chummy. It felt frighteningly intimate to have that single word – her name – fall so easily from his mouth. Whatever it was that had momentarily assaulted her settled surprisingly happily, nestled in her chest and it was somewhat of a pleasant realisation.

In truth he had agreed as it was her suggestion. He couldn't see Carousel being his thing, having heard the griping from another officer that he had been dragged there by his girlfriend a few days before, but it was her company that he was craving. He would have been quite happy to sit in the café down the road and just have a conversation but when her eyes had brightened and she had chosen the musical, he had found himself so easily acquiescing that it must have meant something, surely?

No. It wasn't a question. It did mean something.


	3. Chapter 3

"In the middle?" he whispered, careful as he let her walk ahead into the darkness of the cinema auditorium.

They had studiously negotiated the half mile along the Dock Road as night closed in around them and to her shock Chummy had not managed to say anything that might ensure that they fell into embarrassed silence or indeed that awkward stumbling that had marred those occasional conversations they had had leading to today. If you could surprise yourself, she had certainly managed to.

Chummy nodded in response, voice suddenly deserting her for the first time that night. She knew all of the comments about goings on in the back row had been a joke; but there were still these occasions where it was hard to differentiate between the girls teasing and even the comment from Fred that she'd 'best keep her hands to herself'. The ground could have swallowed her whole.

They were guided to their seats by the usherette as they both quietly noted that the picture house was quite empty. Odd couples here and there, but mostly groups of girls with a distinct starvation of men. She thought again about whispering to him whether he minded seeing this particular film, but there was something biting away at her of what he if found her annoying if she mentioned it again? It was the strangest thing to think. She cared, would be worried, if he found her so and it was inexplicable.

Between them they settled, the low buzz of conversation around them quietening as the thick green velveteen curtains pulled away to reveal the screen as she pushed her bag underneath the seat. As the music began to swell and she adjusted her eyes to the darkness, she suddenly remembered, but didn't, clasp her hands to her lap. Instead she rested them, elbows gently on the arms.

All of a sudden she felt something. Just the slightest glance of his skin against hers. She turned her head quickly wondering whether she had either imagined it and would look foolish or he had been trying to take hold of her hand in the darkness. If it were the latter her mind might not know how to cope. Looking down though she saw him rub the back of his knuckles against her hand and smile at her in the dim light. She took from it reassurance; just him letting her know he was there and she without thinking relaxed immediately. She returned the smile and the music began to swell, turning their attentions back to the screen.

All those times she had been seated next to her mother's next favoured suitor and her words had been flustered, all sensibilities departing but not out of anything more than shyness and an absolute inability to form a comprehensive, intelligent sentence in the company of the opposite sex.

Yet, here she was. In the company of a man, voluntarily, happily and he had chosen to be there too. It would take some consideration, but as she sat, comfortable in seat those times seemed so far away.

"Did you enjoy the film?" she asked, still vaguely apprehensive as they walked out of the cinema door into the night. The fact that she incepted the conversation was most certainly a first; too used to those awkward silences that she would somehow, at least in her mind, create where conversation could be had readily if only she could employ herself to freely find her speech.

She saw him pause.

"One thought a musical might not quite be your thing", she continued, although smiling at him hoping, praying, he didn't think she was being condescending.

"I did enjoy it" he replied putting on his best convincing voice. Actually, no he genuinely had if only because she had been so engrossed. The little looks out of the corner of his eye told him so.

"Next time…" he started and then just as abruptly stopped as she was not looking him any more. Peter knew must have startled her and as they walked the only place she could look was the ground.

The words had fallen from his mouth like the most natural thing in the world to ask again but the way she turned away from him, well, if that was not a signal he didn't know what it was. Peter knew the number of girlfriends he had had, proper real girlfriends, that had extended beyond a single film, an unnaturally uncomfortable supper, or pointless fumblings and he could count them on less than one hand. Was this one, the one that might just hold some promise if that sensation in the pit of his stomach was right, going the same way?

"What time did Sister Julienne say I had to make sure you were back?" he asked, rapidly changing the subject. Chummy was still miles behind pondering his 'next time' and she heard her name.

"Camilla?" It just about registered that he sounded concerned.

"Oh" she replied as they crossed over the road. "Ten o'clock and not a second later".

He glanced at his watch. They had plenty of time and could walk at a leisurely pace. It would be nice to just have a walk and have a conversation with her. Or might she want to hurry back? What might she be expecting of him? Peter decided he would let her take the lead and she seemed quite happy to stroll, so he accepted that and walked, keeping what felt like that respectable distance again from her side.

Chummy realised the moment had been lost to ask him to carry on with what he was saying. Was he about to say they could perhaps see another film or go for some supper somewhere? Chummy sighed internally. There it was again. She_ liked_ him. Liked him perhaps more than she should be admitting to herself and the chance was clearly gone. That one time, that blessed one time where she enjoyed the company of a man and he was slipping away already.

"There you go" he said as they stood at the bottom of the steps of Nonnatus, the journey back short.

"Nine o'clock and fifty eight minutes precisely" he continued, glancing up to the door.

"Thank you" she whispered smiling. "Mustn't have the Sisters locking me out!"

He smiled at her and she had absolutely no idea why. He had stopped himself asking her out again, so why was he smiling at her like that?

Peter's hand twitched forward, diverting itself from the oath it had intended to take towards her hand. Instead he straightened his jacket and both hands found themselves in his pockets. Keep them out of the way son, then you won't frighten her off if she thinks anything of you at all.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asked as she nodded in response.

"Me too" he continued. "So... we might see each other? If we pass each other by?" The questions were hesitant and she suddenly found he was holding her gaze.

"Maybe" she smiled back at him.

"Good" he replied. "Well goodnight then".

"Goodnight"

Chummy shot up the steps and closed the door behind her. It was only when she was firmly sure the door was shut that she allowed herself a tentative thoughtette or two.

Maybe this could be something after all.


End file.
